Years ago, I began a job search when I felt that my current employer was on to the fact that I came into work hungover every Monday and spent most of my time personal emailing.
Actually, in all honesty, I was looking for a bigger challenge. I’m prone to boredom. Hell, aren’t we all? Isn’t that why you’re reading this shit?
So I interviewed with a company and it went really well. They wanted me to meet all the head honchos during a second interview. It was in Seattle.
I was pretty psyched because I had never been to Seattle. I’m really quite attracted to hippie granola types. In the same vein, I’m also extremely irritated by them. If I see flax seed, I basically want to bend you over and shove it up your ass. It wouldn’t hurt the taste!
If a song goes over 5 minutes, shut the fuck up. Seriously. The only people that like jam bands are high. If you’re willing to share…well…then…that’s a different story. I’ll take your 8 minute song and raise you another hit off that joint.
I’m also lazy, which means I don’t want to compost or grow my own vegetable garden. Spray it with pesticide and let me cover it in plastic and throw it out. (Not recycle.)
If you haven’t figured it out by now, I have a tendency to exaggerate.
But seriously, I don’t understand myself. Why does something that attracts me so much (bearded man reading alone in the corner smoking a cigarette he rolled himself and listening to NPR) also repel me? I don’t get it.
Anyway, I’m in Seattle and blessed with a beautiful October day. The sun is shining and I get a bit of time to walk around and explore the city. Gorgeous!
My interviews go well and I’m walking on sunshine. They’re going to offer me the job!
On my flight home I’m still dressed in my interview gear, which was a suit and nice shirt.
Another little known fact about me: I love water. I try to drink a lot of water. I don’t drink caffeine or juice or milk or anything else. Water is where it’s at.
Rum is also where it’s at. But that’s a different story entirely.
I had downed quite a bit of water before the flight. I have a rather large bladder. I don’t have to go to the bathroom every 5 seconds like some women. But when I have to go, I REALLY have to go. I often don’t have much warning, and there is a short span of how much I can hold it.
I was on the plane and having one of those moments. I had to pee.
I make my way to the bathroom as subtle as possible. And by subtle I mean I that I am holding my crotch with my hand, jumping up and down and screaming “I HAVE TO PEE MOTHER FUCKER!!!” I may or may not have pushed a few children and old ladies out of the way. Move it or I lose my bladder beyotch!
When I finally get to the back of the plane, of course there’s a line.
When it’s my turn, I eagerly jump into the cubbie airlines like to call a bathroom, deftly unzip my pants and begin the squatting/hovering.
“AHHHHHHHHH!!!! Someone’s in here” I shout.
Suddenly, the door swings open and I’m face to face with a women as I’m hovering and half naked over the toilet. I started yelling.
“So sorry!!!” she yells.
I reach to close the door and make sure it’s locked.
I finished peeing and hoped upon hope that she had gone into the next available cubbie.
She had not.
As I exited the stall, I began to apologize to her. Sometimes in awkward situations I feel the need to talk without having much to say. Repeatedly saying sorry seems to do the trick of having a filler.
No matter how bad you have to pee, seriously, lock the friggin’ door. Because if you don’t, someone WILL walk in.
I’m sure the sight of my half naked body hovering over the vacuum suction toilet was the highlight of her flight.
Hot/warm towel needed seat 18C!!!!